Poor chap, ’e was dead, and no mistake.’

“Old Man Newton, as he was universally called by his large circle of acquaintances, was very well known throughout the entire neighbourhood, most particularly at every inn and public bar for some miles round.

“He also kept a local sweet-stuff shop at Ayrsham. No wonder that the men were horrified at finding him in such a terrible condition; even in their uneducated minds there could be no doubt that the old man had been murdered, for his skull had been literally shattered by a fearful blow, dealt him from behind by some powerful assailant.

“Whilst the labourers were cogitating as to what they had better do next, they heard footsteps also turning into the lane, and the next moment Samuel Holder, a well-known inhabitant of Ayrsham, arrived upon the scene.

“‘Hello! is that you, Mat Newton?’ shouted Samuel, as he came near.

“‘Ay! ’tis Old Man Newton, right enough,’ replied one of the labourers, ‘but ’e won’t answer you no more.’

“Samuel Holder seemed absolutely horrified when he saw the body of Old Man Newton; he uttered various ejaculations, which the two labourers, however, did not take special notice of at the time.

“Then the three men held a brief consultation together, with the result that one of them ran back to Ayrsham village to fetch the local police, whilst the two others remained in the lane to guard the body.

“The mystery – for it seemed one from the first – created a great deal of sensation in Ayrsham and all round the neighbourhood, and much sympathy was felt for, and shown to, Mary Newton, the murdered man’s only child, a young girl about two- or three-and-twenty, who, moreover, was in ill health.

“True, Old Man Newton was not a satisfactory protector for a young girl. He was very much addicted to drink; he neglected the little bit of local business he had; and, moreover, had recently shamefully ill-treated his daughter, the neighbours testifying to the many and loud quarrels that occurred in the small back parlour behind the sweet-stuff shop.

“A case of murder – the moment an element of mystery hovers around it – immediately excites the attention of the newspaper-reading public, who is always seeking for new sensations.

“Very soon the history of Old Man Newton and of his daughter found its way into the London and provincial dailies, and the Ayrsham murder became a topic of all-absorbing interest.

“It appears that Old Man Newton was at one time a highly respectable local tradesman, always in a very small way, as there is not much business doing at Ayrsham. It is a poor and straggling village, although its railway station is an important junction on the Midland system.

“There is some very good shooting in the neighbourhood, and about four or five years ago some of it, together with The Limes, a pretty house just outside the village, was rented for the autumn by Mr Ledbury and his brother.

“You know the firm of Ledbury and Co., do you not – the great small-arms manufacturers? The elder Mr Ledbury was the recipient of birthday honours last year, and is the present Lord Walterton. His younger brother, Mervin, was in those days, and is still, a handsome young fellow in the Hussars.

“At the time – I mean about five years ago – Mary Newton was the local beauty of Ayrsham; she did a little dressmaking in her odd moments, but it appears that she spent most of her time in flirting. She was nominally engaged to be married to Samuel Holder, a young carpenter, but there was a good deal of scandal talked about her, for she was thought to be very fast; village gossip coupled her name with that of several young men in the neighbourhood, who were known to have paid the village beauty marked attention, and among these admirers of Mary Newton during the autumn of which I am speaking, young Mr Mervin Ledbury figured conspicuously.

“Be that as it may, certain it is that Mary Newton had a very bad reputation among the scandalmongers of Ayrsham, and though everybody was shocked, no one was astonished when one fine day in the winter following she suddenly left her father and her home, and went no one knew whither. She left, it appears, a very pathetic letter behind, begging for her father’s forgiveness, and that of Samuel Holder, whom she was jilting, but she was going to marry a gentleman above them all in station, and was going to be a real lady; then only would she return home.

“A very usual village tragedy, as you see. Four years went by, and Mary Newton did not return home. As time went by and with it no news of his daughter, Old Man Newton took her disappearance very much to heart. He began to neglect his business, and then his house, which became dirty and ill-kept by an occasional charwoman who would do a bit of promiscuous tidying for him from time to time. He was ill-tempered, sullen, and morose, and very soon became hopelessly addicted to drink.

“Then suddenly, as unexpectedly as she had gone, Mary Newton returned to her home one fine day, after an absence of four years. What had become of her in the interim no one in the village ever knew; she was generally supposed to have earned a living by dressmaking, until her failing health had driven her well-nigh to starvation, and then back to the home and her father she had so heedlessly left.

“Needless to say that all talk of her ‘marriage with a gentleman above her in station’ was entirely at an end. As for Old Man Newton, he seems, after his daughter’s return, to have become more sullen and morose than ever, and the neighbours now busied themselves with talk of the fearful rows which frequently occurred in the back parlour of the little sweet-stuff shop.

“Father and daughter seemed to be leading a veritable cat-and-dog life together. Old Man Newton was hardly ever sober, and at the village inns he threw out weird and strange hints about ‘breach of promise actions with £5,000 damages, which his daughter should get, if only he knew where to lay hands upon the scoundrel’.

“He also made vague and wholly useless enquiries about young Mervin Ledbury, but in a sleepy, out-of-the-way village like Ayrsham, no one knows anything about what goes on beyond a narrow five-mile radius at most. The Limes and the shooting were let to different tenants year after year, and neither Lord Walterton nor Mr Mervin Ledbury had ever rented them again.”

2

“That was the past history of old Newton,” continued the man in the corner, after a brief pause; “that is to say, of the man who on a dark night last October was found murdered in a lonely lane, not far from Ayrsham. The public, as you may well imagine, took a very keen interest in the case from the outset; the story of Mark Newton, of the threatened breach of promise, of the £5,000 damages, roused masses of conjecture to which no one as yet dared to give definite shape.

“One name, however, had already been whispered significantly, that of Mr Mervin Ledbury, the young Hussar, one of Mary Newton’s admirers at the very time she left home in order, as she said, to be married to someone above her in station.

“Many thinking people, too, wanted to know what Samuel Holder, Mary’s jilted fiancée, was doing close to the scene of the murder that night, and how he came to make the remark: ‘Hello! is that you, Mat Newton?’ when the old man lived nearly half a mile away, and really had no cause for being in that particular lane, at that hour of the night in the drizzling rain.

“The inquest, which, for want of other accommodation, was held at the local police station, was, as you imagine, very largely attended.

“I had read a brief statement of the case in the London papers, and had hurried down to Ayrsham Junction as I scented a mystery, and knew I should enjoy myself.

“When I got there, the room was already packed, and the medical evidence was being gone through.

“Old Man Newton, it appears, had been knocked on the head by a heavily leaded cane, which was found in the ditch close to the murdered man’s body.

“The cane was produced in court; it was as stout as an old-fashioned club, and of terrific weight. The man who wielded it must have been very powerful, for he had only dealt one blow, but that blow had cracked the old man’s skull. The cane was undoubtedly of foreign make, for it had a solid silver ferrule at one end, which was not English hallmarked.

“In the opinion of the medical expert, death was the result of the blow, and must have been almost instantaneous.

“The labourers who first came across the body of the murdered man then repeated their story; they had nothing new to add, and their evidence was of no importance. But after that there was some stir in the court. Samuel Holder had been called and sworn to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

“He was a youngish, heavily built man of about five-and-thirty, with a nervous, not altogether prepossessing, expression of face. Pressed by the coroner, he gave us a few details of Old Man Newton’s earlier history, such as I have already told you.

“‘Old Mat,’ he explained, with some hesitation, ‘was for ever wanting to find out who the gentleman was who had promised marriage to Mary four years ago. But Mary was that obstinate, and wouldn’t tell him, and this exasperated the old man terribly, so that they had many rows on the subject.’

“‘I suppose,’ said the coroner tentatively, ‘that you never knew who that gentleman was?’

“Samuel Holder seemed to hesitate for a moment. His manner became even more nervous than before; he shifted his position from one foot to the other; finally he said:

“‘I don’t know as I ought to say, but –’

“‘I am quite sure that you must tell us everything you know which might throw light upon this extraordinary and terrible murder,’ retorted the coroner sternly.

“‘Well,’ replied Samuel Holder, whilst great beads of perspiration stood out upon his forehead, ‘Mary never would give up the letters she had had from him, and she would not hear anything about a breach of promise case and £5,000 damages; but old Mat ’e often says to me, says ’e, “It’s young Mr Ledbury,” ’e says, “she’s told me that once. I got it out of ’er, and if I only knew where to find ’im –”’

“‘You are quite sure of this?’ asked the coroner, for Holder had paused, and seemed quite horrified at the enormity of what he had said.

“‘Yes – yes – your worship – your honour –’ stammered Holder. ‘’E’s told me ’twas young Mr Ledbury times out of count, and –’

“But Samuel Holder here completely broke down; he seemed unable to speak, his lips twitched convulsively, and the coroner, fearing that the man would faint, had him conveyed into the next room to recover himself, whilst another witness was brought forward.

“This was Michael Pitkin, landlord of the Fernhead Arms, at Ayrsham, who had been on very intimate terms with old Newton during the four years which elapsed after Mary’s disappearance. He had a very curious story to tell, which aroused public excitement to its highest pitch.

“It appears that to him also the old man had often confided the fact that it was Mr Ledbury who had promised to marry Mary, and then had shamefully left her stranded and moneyless in London.

“‘But of course,’ added the jovial and pleasant-looking landlord of the Fernhead Arms, ‘the likes of us down here didn’t know what became of Mr Ledbury after he left The Limes, until one day I reads in the local paper that Sir John Fernhead’s daughter is going to be married to Captain Mervin Ledbury. Of course, your honour and me, and all of us know Sir John, our squire, down at Fernhead Towers, and I says to old Mat: “It strikes me,” I says, “that you’ve got your man.” Sure enough it was the same Mr Ledbury who rented The Limes years ago, who was engaged to the young lady up at The Towers, and last week there was grand doings there – lords and ladies and lots of quality staying there, and also the Captain.’

“‘Well?’ asked the coroner eagerly, whilst everyone held their breath, wondering what was to come.

“‘Well,’ continued Michael Pitkin, ‘Old Man Newton went down to The Towers one day.